


everything that had to be said

by YouDontRememberTheSomme



Category: 1917 (Movie 2019)
Genre: Just a 5+1 fic, M/M, with smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:27:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24283573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouDontRememberTheSomme/pseuds/YouDontRememberTheSomme
Summary: Five pet names Rossi has for Cooke and one Cooke has for him.
Relationships: James Rossi/Charles Cooke, Private Cooke/Private Rossi
Kudos: 19





	everything that had to be said

1\. Lover boy.

Rossi’s voice is playful, light and genuine. “C’mere, lover boy,” he murmurs, wrapping an arm around Cooke’s waist. There’s no one around, no one to overhear or cast judgement. Just the pair of them and a hotel room. 

“‘Lover boy’,” Cooke echoes, leaning up to let Rossi kiss him. 

“‘s cute. Fits you,” Rossi retorted, giving Cooke’s hair a little tug.

2\. Sugar. 

Rossi’s hands roam Cooke’s body too slowly. Not in the way he does when he’s teasing, just in the way he does when it seems like he wants to commit Cooke to memory.

“Awful pretty tonight, sugar,” Rossi whispered.

Cooke’s response comes out breathy, a drawn out little whine. “James...”

“I’ve got you.”

3\. Princess. 

It sounds like affectionate mockery, that sweetly condescending tone Rossi uses when he teases him. 

“That’s it, princess, think I can add one more?” Rossi asked, his voice honey-sweet as he curled his fingers and made Cooke whimper. 

“Don’t fucking call me princess,” he protested, voice strained and needy. 

He likes it, despite the insistance that he doesn’t. That fact makes Rossi smile, makes him rub his fingers over Cooke’s sweet spot just a little bit harder so he could listen to him cry out. 

“My princess,” Rossi murmured fondly. 

4\. Doll. 

Cooke’s body is taut, tensed and teetering so close to the edge that he wants to cry. Rossi’s a teasing bastard, bringing him close and then denying him. The praise, the filthy words uttered in such a soft voice, they don’t ease the near-desperation he’s consumed with. 

“Just one more, doll, then I’ll let you,” Rossi soothed, his hands planted firmly on Cooke’s hips, not letting him squirm or arch up to meet his movements.

5\. Angel. 

Cooke’s half asleep on Rossi’s chest when he hears him speak. He’s a bit groggy, but he strains to hear Rossi’s words.

“You were wonderful tonight,” Rossi said softly, his fingertips tracing meaningless patterns on Cooke’s back. He goes quiet, a bit hesitant. “I like you a lot, angel. A lot. ‘m real glad you’re here.”

1\. Soldier

Cooke smiles against Rossi’s chest, his snark gone, his defensiveness having disappeared. This - Rossi’s presence - is a place he doesn’t need to hide, as much as he’d tried to convince himself otherwise.

“Love you too, soldier,” he whispered. 

Rossi doesn’t reply, doesn’t need to. Everything that had to be said was spoken.


End file.
